It was a funny sleeping…

It was a funny sleeping night. I remember being very cold, huddling into the heavy covers, hiding my face. And then I woke up so hot, sweating, fighting my way out from the covers. Almost the first thing I did was open the window, and the fresh, crisp morning air felt so good against my face. It's bright and sunny out, a fairly perfect January day, and I just know Chicago won't be like this when I go back on Tuesday. There will be no flinging open of windows then.

I've had my first cup of tea, and an English muffin, and it's heading towards time for my second. Lots of answering of little e-mails, sending of little e-mails. Next I put on my headphones and try to revise the story I started working on yesterday; I got de-railed halfway through my revision, so I should try to finish it this morning. I think I should be able to by lunchtime, if nothing goes too terribly wrong. And then I really really must either work on the collab or on the Blowfish stuff. They should both get finished this weekend, one way or the other. Mary Anne says so.

This evening, I leave Jed and go back up to Oakland with David. I'm planning on meeting Susan for lunch in Berkeley, followed by meeting up with Dan and then Debbie at Tully's. There will also be working, dangit. Monday I may go into the city for lunch with Christophe, Tuesday at 4-ish I go home. That's the plan. It's a good plan. I like it.

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